


Music Night

by scurvaliciousbay



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Drunk Kisses, Drunkenness, F/M, Fenris trying to learn how to play the piano, Fluff, Friendship, Hawke playing piano, Longing, Pre-Romance, Romantic Tension, Song fic, curvy hawke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-13 23:13:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7142123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scurvaliciousbay/pseuds/scurvaliciousbay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sort of sister story to Bathtub Love Songs. But you do not need to have read that to read this. </p>
<p>After music night, Katra and Fenris wind up drinking copious amounts of wine in her estate. </p>
<p>Set between Acts 1 and 2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Music Night

Her hands flew over the keyboard, creating a quick paced little number that Sandal and Max, her mabari, jumped around happily to. She finished the song with a flutter of fingers and a smile, sending Sandal clapping and the hound barking in an ovation.

“More!” the dwarf cried happily, hopping from one foot to the other. Katra giggled and nodded.

“Sure,” she said, before keying up another song. It was a little ditty her mother used to hum when she was in a particularly good mood. Father would find her humming it while baking and wrap his arms around her, pulling her in for a long kiss that made all the children cry “ew!” Her mother didn’t hum it much now, but the song remained a pleasant memory.

“ _You’re in the mood for love,_

_“You’re in the mood to dance,_

_“You’re in the mood for a little romance,_

_“You’re in the mood for love.”_ She began easily enough, smiling as she sang and pressed her fingers eagerly into the keys

Sandal resumed his dancing and even Bodahn swayed happily to the music. Max barked and bounced around Sandal and Katra caught herself laughing more than a few times.

“ _Can I have this chance,_

_“To be your little romance?_

_“Can I have this dance?_

_“I’m in the mood for love.”_ There was a brief lull in the song and her ears suddenly picked out distinct scratching and movement, but she continued to play, her smile broadening. Ah. It seemed her sometimes regular visitor was here again.

She liked to think that it was her voice that brought him here sometimes. That she was this wonderful siren of beauty and song and he was a sailor, hopeless drawn to her voice and bosom.

“ _I’m all dressed up tonight,_

_“I’ve waited all night long,_

_“When will they finally play your song?_

_“I’m in the mood to dance.”_ She closed her eyes, falling into the familiar happy little song, her body swaying slightly back and forth as her fingers danced.

“ _Can I have this chance,_

_“To be your little romance?_

_“Can I have this dance?_

_“I’m in the mood for love,_

_“I’m in the mood for love._

_“If it’s the only chance I get-_

“OH DEAR! FIRE! MESSERE HAWKE!” Bodahn suddenly cried. Katra’s eyes snapped open to see that Sandal’s pants had somehow caught fire.

She lurched out of her seat and ran over the wash basin, holding the water in a small bubble with her magic before lobbing the bubble onto Sandal’s pants. The fire sputtered out with a hiss and Sandal gasped from the sudden cold water.

“Sandal,” Katra said, concerned, “what have we said about carrying fire runes in your pockets?” She urged him to sit down so she could examine his leg. The burns were mild at best and with a simple healing spell and salve, he was healing quickly, despite his continuing sputtering and gentle crying.

“There, there,” she cooed as she eased him into his bed. Music night was done then, going out in an even more spectacular fashion than last week’s mother-daughter screaming match.

Luckily, mother wasn’t there this evening.

“Thank you, Mistress Hawke! I don’t know what we would do without you,” Bodahn gushed. Katra simply smiled and kissed the man’s head.

“Good night, Bodahn,” she said before heading towards the cellar. She grabbed two bottles of wine and headed up to her room, smiling.

She opened the doors to her balcony and stepped out, holding one of the bottles up.

“C’mon, Fenris, I got your favorite! Come wine with me,” she called out to the night. For a moment she was worried that he wouldn’t show, that she was actually going insane from the amount of time she has been having to spend with the nobility in Fancy Shite Town. But then there was a rattle and a grunt and then a white haired head peeking out from over the bannister.

“Are you sure?” Fenris asked.

“Yes! Mother is away at Comte de Who-Gives-A-Shit and I have too much wine for my body,” she wiggled the bottle at him and he sighed before finally giving in and climbing onto the balcony. He was in his typical leather and breastplate, his gauntlets clinking against the stone as he pulled himself up. He strode towards her and took the wine and the cork opener.

“Not going to use your magic?” He drawled. She shook her head no and walked inside.

“Haven’t fine-tuned the cork thing yet, last time I tried I exploded the damn bottle,” which was…not exactly true. She had exploded the last bottle, but it had been completely and totally an accident that was in no way meant to drench one of the du Launcets in bad overpriced wine. The real reason she wasn’t using her magic because well…he didn’t like excessive magic, and if she didn’t have to cast, she didn’t.

“Have you eaten? We have some left over scones from this morning. Made them myself,” she offered but he shook his head.

“Just the wine is fine,” he said, popping the cork off and lifting the bottle to his lips. He sighed as he drank deeply. She bit her lip as she watched his Adam’s Apple bob from drinking before realizing what she was doing. She chastised herself while she uncorked her own wine. She brought the bottle to her lips too and took a generous swig.

Yeah. This bottle was not going to be enough.

She takes the bottle from her mouth and sighs happily.

“Aaaah, nothing like getting plastered in the middle of the week,” Fenris chuckled and they clinked their bottles, raising them back up to drink.

“Why are you not sleeping? It is late and Varric was talking about going to Sundermount tomorrow.” Fenris asked when he came up for air. Katra shrugged and sank down to the rug in front of the fireplace. He sat down next to her, folding himself much more gracefully than she.

“Same reason you’re not at home, wrapped in a blanket in that giant mansion of yours.”

“Nightmares about magisters?”

“Yes, I have this recurring one where the magister is actually a goose and is trying to turn me into a duck,” she giggled. Fenris shook his head but he was smiling.

“To get your golden eggs, I assume,” he replied and she nodded emphatically.

“Yes! Precisely! Finally someone who understands the evil goose magisters and their nefarious plots to steal all the golden eggs!” The bottle was already half gone and her head buzzing, which may have explained her leaning her head against him, still giggling from her own ridiculousness. She was fully prepared for him shift away from her…but he didn’t. He jumped a bit when her head fell on his for once spike-less shoulders but he remained seated in his spot. She smiled even more ridiculously but she resisted from snuggling in closer to him.

“They most likely used blood magic to acquire the eggs,” he said dryly.

“Oh you bet, making those ducks think it’s fine to give them their precious widdle eggs – only to have those vile geese make luxurious omelets of evilness.”

“Luxurious omelets of evilness?” He asked in that wonderfully amused tone of his. She nodded against his shoulder, reveling that it was her who elicited this tone from him the most. Sure, he would banter with Varric, but she truly amused him…made him smile.

“Yes! It’s what they eat for breakfast.”

“I suppose they save the slave’s tears for their wine.”

“Mmm, most definitely.” They grew quieter, drinking their wine and staring into the fire, comfortable in the silence… until she got bored.

“My mother wants me to get married,” she whispered. He froze and bent his head to look down at her.

“Why?”

She sighed and sat straight up, removing her head from his shoulder. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say he frowned at the loss.

“Something about being a respectable noble woman now and needing to continue the line even though I’m a Hawke, not an Amell, and very much a mage,” she grumbled, picking at the skin around her nails.

“Can you not refuse?”

“Have you met my mother?”

“You are your own person.”

“Again, have you met my mother?” She teased, sighing and resting her head against the bed. Honestly, her mother just…she wanted the best for Katra, but since Bethany’s death and Carver’s leaving for the Templars she had become incredibly overbearing and pushy.

Fenris was quiet for a long time, sipping his wine before he looked back at her.

“But you are choosing to not obey her,” he stated quietly and she shrugged again.

“I want to marry for love, and she understands that…she just needs to be reminded that she does.”

“You want to choose the person you marry…and you’re fighting for that right to choose,” he restated and she nodded, smiling.

“Yes, exactly. It is my life, I should be able to direct its course…like anybody should,” she finished lamely. She took a long swig of her wine, finishing it off with a long sigh.

“Ooooh, look at that! I’m dry. Care to go on an adventure with me?” She said, swaying just a bit when she turned back to him, leering ever so slightly. Fenris rolled his eyes but downed the rest of his wine.

He returned her drunken smile with one of his own, making her giggle again.

“And what is our mission, Serah Hawke?” He played.

“We are going to liberate bottles of wine from the evil clutches of the cellar,” she pulled herself to standing only to stumble slightly. Fenris was there though, wrapping his hands around her forearms. Giggles turned into a hiccup and she covered her mouth with a hand, her eyes wide, before descending into more giggles.

“We should get you drunk on wine more frequently,” he teased and her giggles transformed into full blown laughter.

“It would make for much lighter affairs, wouldn’t it?” He swayed a bit but she took his hand and led him downstairs to the kitchen and to the cellar. They liberated more bottles of wine and then headed back upstairs, giggling and laughing as they tripped and ran into edges in the dark.

“Fenris! Could you light up for a bit? I can’t see!”

“I am not…a glow stick!”

“What’s a fucking glow stick? Do you mean a candle?”

“Fenedhis, I thought of the word in qunlat first.”

“Ooooh.” They stumbled into the parlor where the piano was, banging unceremoniously into the edge. She let out a loud keening giggling noise that if she was sober she would find embarrassing. As it was, she just laughed harder and Fenris chuckled low in his throat.

She made to go back up the stairs, her wine clutched to her bosom, only to find Fenris remaining by the piano.

Katra stopped and cocked her head to the side, “Whatcha doing?”

“You were playing earlier…it was lovely.” He said, carefully running a gauntleted hand against the wood.

“Surely you heard piano music in Tevinter.”

“Yes, Danarius was very fond of it…you play it differently,” he whispered in that odd ‘I approve of you but I am not going to actually say I approve, only growl, or grunt, or do that entirely too sexy hmmm thing.’ And yes, that was the formal name for it.

Katra stepped back down the stairs, hips swaying in a more pronounced jutting motion than normal. Fenris’s eyes slid over to her form, watching her hips with barely concealed interest before shaking himself and looking back at the piano. Katra blushed but said nothing as she set the wine down and walked over to the bench.

“Well, I’m not formally trained and I tend to be a little unrestrained on the piano. Not like the stuffed shirts of an orchestra or private player. I’m very selfish you know, playing like that for myself,” she quipped, placing an affectionate hand on the instrument.

“It is beautiful,” Fenris said. Her head snapped up and she grinned like the inebriated fool she was.

“I…would you like to try?” She didn’t really know how to respond to this…to him being like this. She was used to him dismissing her most of the time and she understood, waved it off and continued with her day. But compliments? Sure he had said similar things, more flattering things even, about her before, but she never quite knew what to do with them. Did she collect them? Stow them away like little gemstones and hoard them like a dragon of legend?

Fenris’s eyes widened but he smiled, “I do not wish to damage it.”

“Well, take off your gauntlets and it’ll be fine.” She told him, keeping her voice soft. He hesitated for a moment, shuffling his feet. He took a long look at the keys then at his gauntlets. He inhaled and slowly began to strip the armor off of his hands. She made sure not to stare, instead she tested a few of the keys, knowing they were fine but it never hurt to be doubly sure.

The clinking stopped and her eyes darted quickly to see his hands, long and strong, calloused from the use of his sword, thickly lined with lyrium. There were surprisingly no scars…or perhaps not so surprising, he had said that Danarius had liked him as this prized possession, and one could not have their prized possessions scraped and marred.

But his hands were wonderful, no matter their marks. His fingers were long, the tips blunted with square finger nails. Katra gave him a smile and gestured to the entire keyboard.

“Pick a key! Any key!” She said dramatically. He rolled his eyes at her but his hands continued to hover indecisively over the keys.

“I do not know which one to pick,” he said.

“Well, pick one and if you don’t like that one, pick another, the piano won’t get mad,” she tapped the instrument affectionately. Fenris looked at her strangely but he slowly lowered a single finger to a key, pressing into it gently. The sound reverberated through the room and he sat up a little straighter, clearly surprised. Katra nodded excitedly.

“Good!” She exclaimed, praising him.

“I did nothing,” he argued but she shook her head, feeling herself sober up surprisingly quickly.

“Sure you did! You chose that key and you pressed it. It’s a step, an important one,” she pressed her own finger into a key and she reveled in the reverberation – the potential for music filling her bones and body.

“What is the next step?” He asked.

“You press another key, and you keep going until you learn how to string them together into little families, all different and beautiful in their own ways,” she answered. He did not hesitate for quite so long this time. He pressed the key next to the one he had pressed and cocked his head to the side. He pressed another key, and another – random little notes that made her smile and him frown.

“It is not like yours,” he lamented, removing his hands.

“Of course not, you’re not me, you’re _you_. You play how Fenris plays.”

But his frown only deepened, “It is not beautiful.” She sighed and shifted on the bench to look at him.

“Babies aren’t cute,” she said, shocking him. He looked at her, startled and confused as to why she was saying such a thing.

“They’re like little wrinkly lizard monsters that scream at you – not very cute. But then they turn into toddlers, who are much cuter, and then they’re children and adorable, they bloom into awkward teenagers with strained smiles and trying and then somewhere along the way they become these beautiful adults… or they turn into evil geese magisters that steal golden eggs, but that’s beside the point. What I mean is, it’s never nice at first – you gotta work at it. It took me years to learn to play the way I do, and I am still learning.” She said bumping his shoulder. He looked down at the keys again and took a deep breath.

He lifted a finger and pressed the key again. She pointed to a key that would go well with it and he pressed that one. They did this a few more times, his smile growing as he heard the stilted keys somehow working together.

He stopped for a moment and his ear twitched.

“You are different,” he stated.

“No, I’m completely normal,” she said with a straight face, levitating a couple of the wine bottle for effect. Fenris snorted and shook his head, white hair flying flapping over his face. She suddenly had the urge to run her hands through his hair – she had the distinct feeling that it was incredibly soft and thick and very nice.

She didn’t touch him.

“You have wealth and power, magic,” he continued.

“Mm yes, I do. But I’m a duck, not a goose, so I won’t become an evil goose magister – just an annoying duck.”

“I thought you were a hawk.”

“Oh ho! Yes, well, hawks don’t exactly waddle like I do – look at these hips! Much more of a duck,” she said, wiggling in her seat. She brought a bottle of wine over and frowned deeply when she saw that there was no nearby cork opener.

She looked over to Fenris, about to ask if he was ready to go back upstairs when she saw his eyes were planted firmly at her hip and butt. She arched a brow at him and grinned horribly.

“Fenris, you letch!” She teased and his gaze snapped up to her eyes only to shift away as he blushed. Oh no, it was soooo not fair when he did that! It was too cute, too endearing. How dare he.

“I have seen your hips, yes…” he murmured, coughing into his fist awkwardly. She rolled her eyes and took more of the bottles in arms.

“C’mon, let us resume our ill-advised drinking,” she said, already sallying up the stairs. She felt his eyes on her hips and she felt herself flush only the slightest bit. Well, she was glad that he had noticed her hips. They weren’t your typical hips – they were wide with a bit more skin and fat around them than most of the girls in this city. It wasn’t so uncommon in Ferelden but Maker if the women here weren’t all slender little things.

Katra Hawke was many things, slender wasn’t one of them

And yet…his eyes seemed to follow her hips. She turned around to find him staring again and he blushed even more furiously. She only giggled and handed him another bottle.

“Glad you like the view,” she wiggled her hips for him and the blush spread to his ears.

They made it to the room with the cork opener and resumed their drinking. They laughed at the adventures they continued to get in, at Anders accidentally shrinking the one good winter robe he had. Fenris told her the latest exploits she had apparently gotten into according to Varric and she laughed.

“It’s good to know that I rescued an orphanage, that always looks good on a resume!” She laughed, finishing off her second bottle. She looked up at him and grinned before launching the empty bottle into the flames.

Fenris laughed, actually _laughed_ and threw his own nearly empty bottle – the flames shooting high up into the chimney. She jumped at the intensity only to dissolve into more laugher that almost had her falling to the fall. Fenris wrapped his arms around her to hold her up. His hands were warm and he pulled her close. Before she knew what was happening he was holding her chin and turning her face towards his. Her breath caught and his pressed a sloppy kiss to her mouth.

Katra’s eyes widened in surprise as he moved his wet lips against hers. A shiver ran up her spine and she leaned into him for a brief moment before pushing him away. He followed her, though, with big sad eyes.

“Fenris…Fenris…you’re drunk. _I’m_ drunk,” She held him away from her, trying not to stumble herself.

“Hawke…” he murmured, but his eyes were fluttering and she sighed. Shit.

“Alright, let’s get you to bed,” she began to lead him to her bed, she guessed she’d sleep in the guest room tonight.

“You are beautiful,” he said as he fell back onto the bed. He turned his face into her pillows and inhaled deeply.

“Your bed smells pretty.”

“That’s what happens when you launder your sheets,” she quipped, continuing to tuck him in. He was asleep or passed out quickly enough, occasionally snorting softly in comfort. Her hands hovered over his head, still wanting to run her hands through his hair. Instead she sighed, leaning against the post and softly sang the rest of her song from before.

_“If it’s the only chance I get,_

_“If it’s the only chance I get, then get_

_“Ready to throw your shoes away,_

_“For I will sweep, sweep, sweep_

_“You off your feet._

_“I will sweep, sweep, sweep_

_“You off your feet_

_“To be your little romance.”_ There was another verse but she was yawning and close to passing out herself. Katra hauled herself away from the entirely too beautiful sleeping form of Fenris and her wonderful bed to slink into the guest bedroom, where she promptly fell asleep on the chaise.

**Author's Note:**

> The song is not mine and I claim no ownership over it! It is Little Romance by Ingrid Michaelson and it is a very sweet little song, I highly recommend you check it out (also think of Varric's comment about Fenris and sweeping). 
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the story, I enjoyed writing it :) Please comment, leave kudos, etc. - these are my fuel! You respond and I get inspired to make more!


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